The morning air carried a chill that bit softly at Sasuke's bare arms as he stood near the forest clearing just beyond the Uchiha compound. The sky, half cloaked in lingering mist, shimmered faintly with the sun's first rise. Dew glistened over the grass like fragments of starlight forgotten by the night.
It had become his training ground now—his secret place away from clan eyes, where he could test the boundaries of his power without interference.
At seven years old, Sasuke felt both ahead of his peers and imprisoned by secrecy. Every other child of his age learned to throw kunai with enthusiasm or performed the Clone Jutsu for fun. He learned quietly, calculating chakra flow and pressure dynamics as though reality itself were a formula waiting to be solved.
He pulled a single kunai from his pouch, exhaled slowly, and focused on the faint energy signature within the blade. Chakra wasn't just in living beings. It resonated through matter, subtle and delicate. With his analytical sight, he could see it like dancing veins of blue light embedded in the metal.
When he released the kunai toward the nearest tree, he added a sliver of chakra to stabilize its flight. The kunai spun forward perfectly, embedding itself exactly where he intended—at the intersection of two branching marks he'd carved earlier.
He exhaled, satisfied. "Ninety-eight percent precision," he murmured, scribbling mental notes.
But his perfection was imperfect. He wanted more: to merge this precision with instinct, to make every motion a natural extension of thought.
He sat cross-legged under the maple tree, closed his eyes, and began analyzing again. Behind his closed lids, graphs and patterns glowed faintly—his mind's visual model of chakra flow. He'd long stopped being surprised by it; the divine wish had fused this perception too deeply with his consciousness to resist. The power wasn't random. It was procedural. Logical. And yet, something about it felt alive, aware.
The goddess's warning resurfaced quietly in memory, but he pushed it away.
For now, he needed control, not fear.
***
#### An Unexpected Challenge
That day, Sasuke trained longer than usual, long enough for the mid-afternoon sun to dip west, casting the sky in molten shades of orange. He wiped the sweat off his brow, preparing to head home, when a voice called from behind the trees.
"Training again by yourself, Sasuke?"
He turned and saw a familiar figure emerge from the shadows—Shisui Uchiha. His carefree smile and soft tone disguised an aura of quiet genius. The clan called him "Shisui the Teleporter" for his unmatched body flicker technique.
Sasuke bowed respectfully. "Shisui-san. Yes, I'm… just practicing."
Shisui chuckled warmly. "You sound like your brother. Always serious."
Sasuke looked away. "Maybe seriousness is an Uchiha trait."
"Or maybe just a burden," Shisui said softly, studying him. "Your chakra feels unusually directed for your age. You've been doing more than basic training, haven't you?"
Sasuke hesitated. "I study… patterns. Movements. Trying to improve."
Shisui's gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "Patterns, huh? Interesting word choice." Then, with a grin, he tossed two wooden training kunai into Sasuke's hands. "Let's test those patterns. Spar with me."
Sasuke stiffened. "With you?"
"Don't worry. I'll hold back enough not to scare you."
That amused glint in Shisui's eye triggered something in Sasuke—a spark of competitiveness intertwined with fear. He couldn't refuse.
He nodded. "Fine."
They stepped back from each other. Leaves rustled as wind swirled through the clearing. The instant Shisui moved, Sasuke barely saw it; his teacher's speed blurred into streaks of motion.
Reflex took over. Sasuke ducked instinctively, the air above him splitting as Shisui's kunai grazed his hair. He rolled sideways and whipped his own kunai forward.
Shisui blocked easily. "Not bad."
But Sasuke was already watching something beyond Shisui's movements—the chakra itself. In his eyes, each flicker of energy left an after-image in the air. His instincts began decoding it mid-fight. The patterns translated into rhythmic equations of movement, each one mapping cause and effect within milliseconds.
Suddenly, Shisui appeared behind him with a shunshin step. Sasuke turned faster than before, kunai raised. Their weapons met with a clink, and for a moment, Sasuke saw his own reflection in Shisui's calm eyes.
"You predicted my motion," Shisui said, slightly surprised.
Sasuke exhaled sharply. "Not exactly. I just read… your flow."
The next instant, Shisui vanished completely. Sasuke barely tracked him until a flicker appeared at his right flank. He blocked again, though slower this time. Still, for someone his age, it was extraordinary.
When the spar ended, both stood panting lightly.
Shisui smiled, resting a hand on his head. "You're dangerous, Sasuke. Not because you're strong, but because you think while you fight."
Sasuke avoided his eyes. "I'm nowhere near strong enough."
"But you will be." Shisui's tone softened. "Remember this, though—there's more to power than seeing the enemy's movement. True mastery comes when you understand *why* they move."
He turned to leave but stopped after a few steps. "Also, be careful how deep you look into others' chakra. The Uchiha eyes carry weight. The more you analyze, the heavier that weight becomes."
Sasuke frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
Shisui looked back with a faint, almost prophetic smile. "One day, you'll understand when seeing isn't just seeing anymore."
Then, like the wind itself, he vanished.
***
#### The Mirror of Instinct
That spar changed everything. Sasuke returned home with a mind ablaze. Each movement from the fight still echoed in perfect symmetry inside his head—a memory not of sight but of mathematical replication.
He replayed it mentally hundreds of times, altering angles and speeds. The analytical gift allowed him to *re-simulate* real events. Through that process, he realized his power's hidden cornerstone: it wasn't limited to observation. He could reconstruct and evolve any pattern, even beyond what he initially saw.
By nightfall, his bedroom had turned into a miniature dojo. He placed three apples on his desk and started practicing minor chakra bursts aimed at them, trying to duplicate Shisui's fluidity.
Each failure gave feedback. The calculations adapted automatically. After dozens of attempts, the chakra thread in his body flowed smoother, faster—almost alive.
One final motion—swift as a breath—and the chakra pulse shattered the middle apple cleanly in half. The cut was sterile, precise. Sasuke froze, staring at it.
This wasn't ordinary power. It was learning incarnate.
He fell back onto his futon, staring at the ceiling. "That's what she meant," he whispered. "To analyze everything I see… means everything *can* evolve."
His heart pounded from excitement—and fear. If he continued to grow like this, what would happen when he tried to rewrite something far larger than a battle technique?
***
#### Shadows Under the Moon
Weeks slipped by. Sasuke's daily routine returned outwardly to normal: basic academy lessons, household dinners, polite greetings to clan elders. Yet beneath that calm surface pulsed a quiet urgency.
He analyzed everything—Naruto's reckless taijutsu during playground scuffles, the teachers' subtle chakra fluctuations, even the drifting patterns of fallen leaves. Every motion contained meaning. The world had become a book written in energy, readable only to him.
Itachi noticed his younger brother's intensity. One evening as Sasuke practiced hand seals, Itachi entered silently, leaning against the doorway.
"You train more than anyone your age," he said. "Are you trying to surpass me already?"
Sasuke smiled faintly. "I don't train to surpass you. I train so that when the time comes… I can protect what you couldn't."
The words caught Itachi off guard. There was sadness in Sasuke's tone that no child should possess. Itachi said nothing. He simply stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on Sasuke's head.
"You'll understand one day why power isn't always freedom," he whispered. Then he left without looking back.
Sasuke stood still long after, the warmth of that touch lingering like an anchor in a rising storm.
***
#### The Test of Danger
It wasn't long before the opportunity came to push his limits further.
Three months later, while accompanying Mikoto to the village market, Sasuke wandered slightly from the path. He followed a narrow alley behind one of the older supply shops, where he heard strange voices. Two rogue shinobi—disguised bandits by their clothing—argued over stolen goods.
One of them noticed him. "Hey, kid! What are you staring at?"
Sasuke froze.
The taller bandit grinned maliciously. "Looks like we've got a witness."
Fear surged through him, but so did something sharper. Instinctively, his chakra shifted into combat readiness. As the first bandit lunged, Sasuke's perception slowed time itself.
The man's movements unfolded in layers—a forward lean drawn through muscle pressure, chakra concentration around his right wrist, a clear signal of attack. Sasuke sidestepped right before impact, copying the sequence Shisui once used.
He didn't think. He reacted through pure analysis. His mind whispered angles, velocity corrections, and counter-zones as though whispering instructions to his body.
He leapt upward, twisted midair, and struck the attacker's wrist with pinpoint precision, forcing him to drop the knife. The second bandit rushed forward, only to be met with a burst of chakra that destabilized the ground between them. Dust rose.
Sasuke's breathing quickened, but he remained alert until village patrols appeared, alerted by the noise.
Mikoto found him moments later, frightened yet proud. "Sasuke! Are you hurt?"
He shook his head quickly. "No, Mother."
When questioned, he said little, deflecting attention. The bandits were arrested. None knew the seven-year-old had read and dismantled their attacks like blueprints.
That night, alone again, Sasuke sat before his mirror, staring into his own reflection. His pupils looked darker, colder—the faint trace of a red hue emerging when he focused too deeply.
He whispered quietly to himself, "Seeing everything means carrying everything."
He realized for the first time that every motion he analyzed wasn't just knowledge—it was also memory. His mind had begun storing countless threads of potential futures all at once, and carrying them pressed on his soul like invisible weight.
***
#### The First Awakening
Days later, he returned to the same training field. The forest seemed quieter now, as if the world paused to watch him.
He formed the Fireball hand seals with calm precision, focusing not on his father's technique but on his own reconstruction of it. Chakra swirled around him, vivid and potent. His lungs filled with energy.
As he exhaled, a sphere of flame erupted outward, larger than he anticipated. The explosion of heat tossed dry leaves skyward in burning arcs. He stumbled backward in awe.
When the smoke cleared, the mark on the ground glowed faintly, shaped like the Uchiha crest. His eyes reflected the firelight—a single tomoe spinning slowly in his left eye, then fading as quickly as it appeared.
He smiled faintly. "So the eyes respond to understanding, not emotion."
But even as he said it, he knew he was only half right. The Sharingan's awakening came from both mind and heart. The analysis may have triggered it, but fear, hope, and guilt had fertilized the seed.
For the first time since his reincarnation, Sasuke truly felt alive—not as Arata reborn, but as a being with destiny of his own making.
The forest wind carried his whisper away into the setting light. "This world won't repeat the pain I remember. Even if destiny doesn't want it, I'll rewrite it with my own eyes."
And somewhere far beyond mortal hearing, the goddess stirred again within her endless realm.
A faint ripple spread through the golden void.
Fate had been observed once more.
***
To be continue...